A Lesson
by Paltomi
Summary: After Edgeworth loses his first case to Phoenix Wright, he's called into Police Chief Damon Gant's office for what he believes will be a simple reprimanding. Lana Skye knows differently, however, and she finds herself roped into Gant's scheme, which turns out to be much darker than anything Edgeworth ever expected. [Gant/Lana/Edgeworth] [mature content]
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I need to stop taking on prompts on the kink meme when I have so many to finish. ORZ But I promise I'll finish them all! Anyway, this is a response to a prompt requesting Gant/Lana/Edgeworth smut.

**Rated M** for future explicit nonconsensual sex acts and sexualized violence.

* * *

Lana Skye knew it would be bad when Miles Edgeworth, the new prosecutor lauded for his perfect win record, lost his first case. When Chief of Police Damon Gant called Edgeworth to his office soon after that, her suspicions that he would not go without punishment were confirmed. And when Edgeworth continued to act in that lofty, prideful manner he was notorious for in the courtroom, that's when she knew for certain that his fate was sealed.

"I can only apologize for my shortcoming, Chief Gant," he was saying as he stared his superior down. "There's nothing I can do for it now. And –" He tapped the side of his head in so condescending a way that Lana inwardly cringed. "I cannot be held entirely accountable. Your men did, after all, arrest the wrong person."

Gant was smiling genially, like he always did, but Lana knew it was only a facade masking the cruelty she knew slumbered underneath. "Worthy," he said when the prosecutor had finished speaking, and Edgeworth winced at the nickname. "I hope you're not accusing my men of going about their work incorrectly."

Edgeworth looked taken aback by the bluntness of the comment. He seemed to grapple for the right words for several moments before finally responding, "I mean no disrespect by it, sir, but the truth of the matter is, the police apprehended a suspect who was proven to be innocent. I played no part in that." There was still a twang of arrogance in his voice, in spite of being so suddenly caught off-guard.

Lana pitied him and his ignorance.

"You should take off your coat, Worthy," Gant said, again appearing to surprise Edgeworth with his directness as well as with the strangeness of the request. "You seem to be getting too hot and fired up. I partially blame the heating in this room!" He gave a deep laugh, and Lana felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

"I think I'll keep it on, thank you," was Edgeworth's reply, and though his words were cool and defiant, his voice shook a little. Lana couldn't blame him; Gant's entire presence was such that he had that intimidating effect on people. And of course, as the chief of police, he had the power to reinforce it.

For as long as Lana had known him, Chief Gant had always gotten his way. Now would be no different.

"Lana," he said at last after one of his uncomfortably long pauses, and she tensed; "take off his coat, would you?"

She had no choice; she moved up to Edgeworth, putting her hands on his shoulders. He shrugged her off, looking all at once surprised, indignant, and even a little afraid.

"Chief Gant, I don't know what you're aiming to do, but I'd appreciate it if you left me my personal space," he snapped, without looking at Lana; he seemed to be trying to ignore her altogether. Helplessly, she looked to her boss, not so much asking his next instructions as silently willing him to just end this whole thing before it got out of hand, before it went too far and caused irreparable damage.

But Gant was a self-assured man, secure in his power, and he was unacquainted with giving up; she knew this all too well. "Now, Worthy," he said, still smiling benignly even as his voice took a dangerous turn. "Be a polite guest and let Ms. Skye take your coat for you."

Perhaps Edgeworth heard that dark note in his voice, or maybe he feared for Lana, for a moment later, he hastily divested of his coat and handed it to her, his eyes icy. She took it without a word, folded it neatly, and then laid it across Gant's desk. Edgeworth watched her all the while, and his gaze lingered on the coat even after she had moved away, as if being separated from it made him anxious. She could understand that; it was Gant's order, after all, that had forced him to part with it, and to know that the man's power went as far as allowing him to control what was worn in his presence was frightening.

But Gant's intent was so much darker than mandating a simple dress code. Lana knew that; this green Edgeworth kid did not, though he seemed to be on the verge of the realization that something wasn't quite right about this whole situation. Unfortunately for the young prosecutor, it was already too late.

"Lana, take off your muffler," was Gant's next order, and unlike Edgeworth, Lana was conditioned to obey without question. She threaded her fingers under the fabric, feeling the warmth of her sweating throat, and tugged. A moment later, the scarf came undone, and she coiled it around her forearm, awaiting further instruction with a heavy heart.

"Why are you telling her to take off her muffler?" Edgeworth said suddenly, anger latent in his voice and just barely restrained. "It's rude to order an employee around like that, especially a subordinate! It's an abuse of power!"

Lana's heartbeat started to pick up momentum as her fear – fear for _him_ – mounted. Gant only chuckled and slowly, loudly clapped his hands, causing the both of them to flinch. "An abuse of power, you say?" His voice was jovial, almost disturbingly so, but his eyes flashed behind his glasses. "Ah, Worthy! You're too straight-laced! You really ought to loosen up a bit, hmm?"

The young prosecutor flushed a little but stood his ground. Gant laughed again.

"As for _why_ I'm having Ms. Skye remove her muffler, well..." He reached up a gloved hand and began to twiddle with a strand of his hair. "I'm a very practical man, Worthy, and I like to take advantage of the resources I have available. I asked Ms. Skye to take off her scarf so that I would have something to bind your hands with."

Gant was never one to beat around the bush. Lana could only avert her eyes, part in shame and part in discomfort, as Edgeworth took a step back, eyes going wide.

"E-excuse me?" he managed to get out, sounding as if he were desperately hoping he had misheard. He hadn't, of course.

"You heard me, Worthy," Gant said calmly, stepping up beside Lana as if to compensate for the step the prosecutor had taken back. "You need to learn a lesson in respect and humility, and I intend to teach it to you. Now come over here so I can tie you up."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Since I'm working on a couple of other fills at the moment, updates on this one may be a bit sporadic.

**Rated M** for future explicit nonconsensual sex acts and sexualized violence.

* * *

Edgeworth looked, in a word, scandalized. "Ch-Chief Gant!" he stuttered out. "I assure you, the joke wasn't funny the first time, and your repeating it has only made it less so!" He was trying to keep his cool, trying so hard to maintain even a shred of power in this situation, but it was a battle he would ultimately lose. Lana knew that; she'd been there herself.

Gant's eyes darkened behind his glasses, but he held his smile firmly in place. "And I assure you, Worthy, that this is no joke," he said calmly, eyes never leaving his prey. "I ordered you over here, and I expect my orders to be followed. _Now_."

For the first time Lana had ever seen, Edgeworth looked genuinely flustered. "Why – why do I need to have my hands bound?" he snapped, clearly stalling. "What on Earth have I done to deserve such treatment?"

"Obedience, Worthy," was Gant's smooth response. "You are unruly and must learn to _submit_. Did I not just tell you that you needed to be taught a lesson in respect and humility?"

"You can't ask such a thing of me!" Edgeworth shot back. "This is illegal! To be coerced into –"

"Nobody is coercing you, Worthy," Gant interrupted. "After all, that would defeat the purpose of this exercise. I want you, of your own free will, to come to me and offer your hands as a sign of submission. I won't accept it any other way."

"Then I refuse!" Edgeworth turned on his heel. Lana knew before he even reached the door that it was locked. Gant was always prepared.

"Let me out!" the prosecutor demanded. He didn't turn around, but the distress in his voice was clear enough.

"Not until we complete the exercise." Gant hadn't moved, hadn't tried once to stop Edgeworth's progress, and yet his command of the entire situation was unassailable.

"Sir," Lana said, barely above a whisper. She was pleading, but she hardly knew for whom – Edgeworth or herself. _He_ was going to be tortured, humiliated, broken.

She was going to help.

Gant dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "Come on now, Worthy," he said. "I'm making this as easy for you as possible, so don't go out of your way to make me angry."

Edgeworth still had his back to the man, still had his fingers curled around the doorknob, as if keeping them there would unlock it. "I refuse to go through with your sick demands," he said at last, his voice an uncharacteristic monotone. "And you can't force me to. Just let me go."

And suddenly, Gant's arm was around Lana's shoulders, and past the corner of her eye, a glint of steel flashed. She didn't realize she'd made a sound until she saw Edgeworth whirl around and then step back against the door in horror.

"Like I said, I'm not going to force you." Gant's voice rumbled through his chest and into her back, deep and unpleasant. He moved his hand just slightly, and she felt the cool edge of a blade skim her throat.

"No – don't!" Edgeworth cried, taking an unsteady step forward, right arm outstretched. "Don't hurt her! Ms. Skye has nothing to do with this!"

She couldn't see his face, but Lana was sure Gant smiled at that. "Then come along, Worthy. Don't make me wait much longer!" As if to reinforce the threat, he brought the knife just a little closer to her skin.

Lana had heard rumors that Miles Edgeworth, the "Demon Prosecutor," didn't care about anyone but himself and acted only in his own self-interest, but she couldn't believe that now as he slowly but surely made his way back across the room, eyes clouded with fear, fear for _her_.

"Here," he mumbled once he reached them, and he held out his hands passively in front of him.

Gant, of course, seemed to find the whole situation very amusing, for he roared with laugter at the prosecutor's humbling display and, once he'd recovered, said, "Behind your back, Worthy, like a lowly convict!"

Edgeworth, face hardening and reddening simultaneously, nevertheless obeyed and turned around to hold his hands behind his back. A moment later, Gant released Lana, and she could breathe easily, carefully again.

"Go ahead and tie him up, Lana," he ordered, gesturing to the muffler still draped over her arm. And so, hating Gant and hating herself, she took hold of Edgeworth's wrists and started to bind them. She focused on her technique and on forming sturdy knots rather than on examining his face, for how could she meet his eyes now, eyes that had shown such sympathy and compassion toward her just moments ago?

"That's too tight," he grunted when she finally pulled the scarf taut, and she was about to undo it when Gant, who had been watching the proceedings intently, stayed her hand with his own.

"Tighter," he said. "He won't learn anything unless he feels just how restricted and powerless he's become."

Edgeworth, she saw when she looked back to him, flushed visibly. "Please," he said, appealing to Lana now, but she did as she was told and pulled the scarf as tight as she could get it. She heard him take in a sharp breath as his wrists were forced even closer together, the fabric pressing deep into his skin. It was an expensive muffler, heavy and well-made, and so she knew he wasn't exaggerating with his noises of pain as she tied it off and tucked away the ends. Gant squeezed her shoulder then, almost tenderly; he was pleased with her.

"Now, Worthy, how do you feel?" he asked, his good mood suddenly returning to him with the reinstatement of his power. "How does it feel to have your most valued appendages tied up and useless behind your back?"

Edgeworth was hiding his eyes with his bangs, but his face was unmistakably pink. "Are you done with me, Chief Gant?" he muttered, and there was anger in his voice again. "Haven't you humiliated me enough? Just untie me already." His words were bold, but his voice lacked its usual strength; he sounded haggard, utterly spent, and yet his ego seemed to want to continue resisting.

"Your attitude just now shows you are still in dire need of humbling, Worthy." Gant sounded amused, and there was an almost lustful quality in his voice now. "You are too willful, too _proud_. You need to be broken down."

An almost imperceptible shudder rippled through the prosecutor at that. "Need I remind you, Chief Gant, that what you are doing is entirely illegal?" he growled.

Gant, for a moment, frowned. "We really need to do something about that mouth of yours, Worthy. Lana!" And she turned to him, dread once again in her heart. "Give him a few good slaps, would you?"

Edgeworth jerked his head up, opened his mouth to object. At that instant, the flat of Lana's palm smacked against his cheek, whipping his face to the side. He stared, wide-eyed and speechless, like he couldn't quite believe what had just happened, and she brought her hand against his face again. This time, she drew a bit of blood when her blow landed square across his nose. She faltered, but Gant was still watching. So she gave the prosecutor another halfhearted slap across the cheek and then lowered her hand, feeling used and disgusting and _evil_. Gant, for his part, merely shrugged.

"I suppose we're ready to move on to the next part of the exercise," he said with a smile.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Here's chapter 3! Thanks for all the support both here and on the meme! =)

**Rated M** for future explicit nonconsensual sex acts and sexualized violence.

* * *

His cheek stung. She had hit him. Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye had _actually_ struck him, three times, and in the face, no less.

He might have been angry with her if he weren't so frightened.

"I suppose we're ready to move on to the next part of the exercise," Gant said, and Miles felt his heart plummet even further in his chest. What the hell was going on? He'd been asking himself that since the moment the police chief had first mentioned tying him up. Somehow, it had come to this - having his face slapped and his hands bound by the man who was supposed to be a paragon of justice and the woman he should have looked up to. It didn't make sense. It wasn't supposed to be this way.

He was really, truly afraid.

But of course, he wouldn't let it show if he could help it. "This is quite enough, Chief Gant! If you don't release me this instant, th-then I'll press charges against you for assault and false imprisonment!" A von Karma was perfect in every way. He certainly wasn't, but he'd be damned if he didn't at least try.

But Gant only laughed at his threat, a loud, ugly sound. "Now that's a case I'd like to see you try to make!" he mused. "I wonder if the chief prosecutor would even approve of you taking it to court?" He glanced knowingly over at Ms. Skye, but she didn't react at all and looked as if she were trying to ignore him. He turned back to Miles and went on, "In any case, Worthy, I don't believe I gave you permission to speak." Miles stared at him, mouth slightly agape. "Since I didn't specify it before, I won't punish you this time. From this point on, however, you are not to speak unless directly ordered to do so."

Miles blanched. "That-that's ridiculous!" he cried. "I-"

He was abruptly cut off when a much larger, leather-clad hand slammed against his already bruised cheek, sending him staggering to the side and then collapsing onto his knees. For a moment, he was dazed; pain pulsed through him like a warning alarm, and his vision wavered. A trickle of _something_ slid from his nose down to his chin and then dripped onto the floor, bright and red. He wanted to wipe it off his face, smooth his palm over the blossoming bruises, because he knew they were unsightly, but his hands were still bound, and the scarf wouldn't give. He could feel tears prickling his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

"I don't believe that was an order to speak, Worthy," came Gant's voice from above him, low and dangerous. Miles kneeled at his feet, gasping, blood from his nose pooling in the crease beneath his lower lip before dripping into the carpet. He wondered, without really caring, how the man intended to hide such incriminating evidence. But what did that matter when, right here and now, he was getting away with torture and imprisonment, entirely unchecked by the chief prosecutor herself?

Gant was searching for something in his suit pocket, and a moment later, he fished out a white handkerchief and pressed it against Miles's bloody nose. Miles cringed away from the touch but remembered, angrily, to keep his mouth shut. His eyes burned with indignation, but he didn't dare speak, and Gant, as expected, only chuckled.

"That's a good look for you, Worthy," he said as he applied painful pressure with the handkerchief. "But I intend to take even _that_ from you by the time this lesson is complete. There's still far too much fire in your eyes for my liking."

He sponged away at his nose for several moments longer before finally pulling away. The handkerchief was no longer white and pristine but now smeared with rose-colored blood. Gant stood up and tossed the soiled cloth into the wastebasket as he passed it on his way to his desk. He then took a seat in his chair, looking almost regal in how he filled it entirely, though more in the way of a ruthless despot than a doting monarch. His eyes moved lazily over Miles, who refused to avert his own and so met his tormentor's head on.

Finally, Gant said, "Lana, would you be so kind as to bring him here?"

Miles had almost forgotten about her. She stepped forward from where she'd been pressed against the wall and approached him. Without meeting his eyes, she reached down, took hold of the collar of his shirt, and coaxed him back to his feet. Miles stumbled slightly, feeling dizzy from the blood and rather off-balanced without the use of his arms. He leveled her with his fiercest glare, but still, she refused to look him in the eye. Instead, she grabbed him by the arm and more or less dragged him forward until he stood before a very pleased Gant. She then gave him a quick shove to the small of his back, and he landed hard on his knees, far too close to the police chief's lower half than was comfortable.

"Now, Worthy, are you ready to begin your next exercise in humility?" he asked cheerfully, and Miles glowered. _Humility?_ he thought, anger coursing through him. _More like humiliation!_

"I-I'll have your badge for this," he growled, the words tumbling from his lips before he could even think to stop them.

The blow landed across his right cheek this time, and though Gant's left hand packed much less force than the other, it was enough to whip his head to the side and probably leave a sizable handprint there.

"That's twice now that you've disobeyed me, Worthy, and that's two times too many," he said as Miles bit down on his tongue to keep from hissing in pain. "Therefore, I think it's only appropriate that our next exercise punishes that nasty mouth of yours."

And then he leaned back in his chair and spread his legs wide, motioning to the space he'd created, his face lit up by an eerie smile. "Go on, little Worthy. Put your head right here so I can control that disobedient mouth of yours."


End file.
